Merlin--Always Saving Arthur's Arse
by InterdimensionalHitchhiker84
Summary: When Harry's twin is hit by Voldemort's killing curse, he becomes someone who had never been born. In the blink of an eye, he goes from his house in Godric's Hollow to a little cottage in Ealdor. It's centuries in the past and suddenly, people are calling him Merlin. And as it turns out, Harry is the once and future king reincarnated. What a mess of mixed up prophesies.
1. Prologue

_I've tweaked the prophesy a bit. This should get interesting._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin. I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own the legends of King Arthur._

_Enjoy!_

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**Merlin—Saving Arthur's Arse Through All of Time**

**Prologue**

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..._

_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives..._

_Born to those who have never seen him, born to a time before ours...and the Once and Future King will emerge from the darkness, and the power the Dark Lord knows not will return to his side...and either must live by the hand of the other for neither can die while the other survives..._

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._

~oOo~

A woman with flaming red hair stood defensively in front of the two cots in the nursery, her expression set, determined, and full of shoved-aside fear. She blocked the two black-haired boys from view, shielding them as best as she could from the gaze and probable attack of the man (if he could even be called that) who had just come up the stairs, a terrible, pitying smile spead across his face. His dark hair was smoothed back away from his face, revealing unnaturally sharp features and dangerous, red eyes.

The man laughed at the scene before him, a single unarmed witch the only obstacle between him and his goal.

"Not Harry, not Derrick, please, not my boys!"

"Stand aside you silly girl... stand aside now."

"Not my boys, please no, take me, kill me instead- Not Harry and Derrick! Please... have mercy... have mercy..."

The man laughed once again, the sound high-pitched and unnatural. The woman screamed as a flash of green light hit her and she fell to the ground. She wasn't breathing.

The man approached the two cots, stepping carelessly around the form of the woman. He cooly regarded the identical twin boys, looking between them slowly. He raised his wand and pointed it at the one on his right. "Avada Kedavra."

The beam of green light was lost in the cloud of dust and flying shrapnel. At teh center of the explosion, a pulsing rip in the fabric of existence opened up. Energy flew in every direction, a bolt of something hitting the other child directly in the forehead, leavign a bloody mess of what would eventually look like lightning. The second boy screamed as blood dripped into his eyes and the first boy screamed just as loudly, tears coating his face as he toppled into the gaping hole in reality.

In less than a second, the rip was closed. Apart from teh screams of the scond child, there was deathly silence. Except that the second child wasn't anymore. In the small nursery, there was only one cot and one dresser. In fact, nowhere in the house was there any sign that the first child had ever existed. Because he hadn't.

The blast had ripped apart the house, leaving the poor child, Harrick James Potter, also known as Harry, open to the elements. His mother's body lay at the foot of his crib and he sobbed loudly, trying to wipe the blood from his eyes, but only aggravating them further. The body of the man was nowhere to be found.

~O~

Derrick screamed loudly. "Mama!" he yelled.

Hurried footsteps could vaguely be heard through the noises of crying. "What _is_ it, Love?" A small woman with dark, vaguely curly hair and blue eyes, drooping from sleep, approached the child with a lit candle in hand. She set it on the first available surface and reached down to pick him up. "What is it? Did you have a bad dream, Merlin? It'll be okay. It'll all be okay."

Derrick was more confused than he'd ever been before in his short life, but he burried his head into the course fabric of the woman's night gown and accepted the comfort, soaking the material through with his tears.

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_Thanks for reading! I really hope you all liked it. Please review!_

_-MP_


	2. Chapter 1

_Enjoy chapter one, dear readers, for more may soon come. Then again, it may not come soon. It depends on my widely changeable muses and ridiculous lack of scheduling and motivation and whether it all works out in your favor or not._

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CHAPTER 1

As the boy now called Merlin grew, it became obvious that he was... different. Often, objects around him began to move of their own accord. Candles would light themselves for him, chores would get done without him ever leaving the house, and somehow, the food was always just the right temperature. Normally, these things would all seem like blessings, but things were also frequently knocked over when no one was near them, other objects would accidentally be set alight, and if Merlin sneezed, people or sheds could be knocked to the ground. Water froze inconveniently and the oddest little winged lizards sometimes flew into the house (though Hunith always kept Merlin from ever seeing these creatures).

Hunith did her best to make sure Merlin tried to control these abilities and he soon learned to use them on command, but it was being able to not use them that she was more concerned about. It was clear to see that this was magic and the poor woman knew that her son could and would be executed for using it, whether he was doing it on purpose or not. So, when he was eighteen, she sent him to Gaius, a close friend of hers, who had studied magic before the great purge.

With a book of spells, Merlin found that his control improved by leaps and bounds, and even if he had to put up with the arrogant ponce of a prince and an old dragon that wouldn't shut up about destiny while he learned, it was worth it.

~O~

July 31st, 1980

The 31st of July in the year 1980 dawned just as any other. Merlin rolled out of bed, stretched a bit, and made himself a simple breakfast. Then, as he had been planning to do for several days, he began his short journey to the crystal cave.

At times, the sorcerer had allowed himself to move away from the place, but he invariably returned no more than a decade or two later. With the oddity of his power and his incredible age, he found himself isolated and lonely in the world—a feeling that lessened slightly when he was around the birthplace of magic. Still, to protect the secret of the location, he had warded the area extensively—even from other magical people—and made sure not to travel there any more than once or twice a year.

Merlin was old, and although he would be deeply ashamed to admit it to Gaius, he had allowed himself to become cynical and mostly isolated. Every few years, he would venture into society and watch people to get a feel for what big things were going on in both the main and magical communities (and how he hated that the two had split—especially after all the progress that had been made in Camelot towards acceptance. This isolationism was a protection method that should never have been necessary.) but he had always withdrawn from them during wartimes, refusing to allow himself to dwell on memories of war and battle and death and the loss of his friends—the loss of his best friend. It simply hurt too much.

There had been times, centuries before, when he had gotten involved, of course.

When a magic school was built in Scotland, he even went so far as to add his own magic to the structure before attending as a student a few years later under the guise of a new name and some aging spells. Deaging to pre-teens was much too uncomfortable for him to attempt again, but the experience was one he didn't regret. He never did manage to learn how to use wands, but though the loss of magical power amongst magical with the introduction of the new styles saddened him, he understood how much good they did and he was proud of the advancements those he had come to think of as 'his people' had made. These magic users may not have had the power he did, but they also didn't struggle with control the way he had. And they had somewhere safe.

He had also founded or helped to start most of the oldest dragon sanctuaries, his heart deep with regret at how the species had fallen as he did so, and up until laws were introduced to prevent it, he had always kept some of the animals around him. He had never lost his skill with dragons, and had found some of them to be better conversationalists than humans most days, despite being more like the wyverns of old than the dragon he had first met.

Only once had he taken on an apprentice, less than sixty years after the battle against Morgana. With that young woman, all knowledge of the old language died, apart from what he kept in his head. She had never fully mastered it and had never passed on her knowledge, and Merlin couldn't bear to do it all again. So, he waited, and he developed the isolated traveling lifestyle he now had. Move around, don't get noticed, wait for Arthur; he lived by that. Sometimes it was the only thing that kept him alive through each day.

He had lost track of the number of times he committed suicide, but it never stuck. Getting murdered was no better. He'd even been blown up once, and he'd survived. It was a constant struggle and embarrassment, but he'd given up on trying to end his life long ago, forcing himself to suffer through because there was simply no other option. Some days he thought of how ashamed his mother must be of what he'd become, but he couldn't bear to think about that for too long.

He'd been getting a shaky expectant kind of feeling bordering on hopeful for the last little while though, hence the planned trip to the cave. He needed to look into the crystals and find out what it was all about. The notion of Arthur lurked in the back of his mind, but he couldn't—wouldn't-allow himself to properly think it.

He climbed stiffly over the rocks at the cave's entrance and looked over his shoulder once in an act of pure paranoia before he walked all the way in and let the aging spell drop. He glanced around at the crystals and took a few more steps before he caught sight of the man he hadn't seen since right before that fateful battle.

"Dad?" he said. The man smiled.

"Hello, Merlin."

"Wh- Why- Where- You haven't been here before," he concluded lamely. "Well, I mean, it's been...centuries. Why are you here."

He smiled again. It's an important day, Merlin. You may very well collapse from the sheer shock of it and I figured you'd need someone here for you."

"What does that mean?"

He just gazed fondly down at his son and tilted his head back further into the cave. Following the unspoken signal, Merlin covered the distance to the viewing crystal quickly. He focused on it and allowed the pictures to form. Immediately, he was confronted with the image of Kilgharrah, the Great dragon. The voice filled his head, echoing around as though it were actually filling the cavern. "Some lives have been foretold, Merlin...Arthur is not just a King-he is the Once and Future King. Take heart, for when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again."

Merlin's heart seemed to stop in his chest, his breath coming out in short, shallow spurts as he tried to process what he was hearing.

The last bit repeated, "for when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again."

He didn't know what to say, but he stumbled backwards and slid down the wall to sit on the floor, cradling his head in his hands.

"As I said, it is an important day."

Merlin looked up at him father, his eyes quite wet. "Arthur? He's coming back? Today?"

The man shrugged and Merlin yelled out in frustration before putting his head back down in his hands and pulling at his hair.

Merlin stayed like that, thinking, for quite some time before he hauled himself back up to his feet and looked again into the large crystal. Focusing, he saw a handful of battles between robed people armed with wands and heard enough bits and pieces of speeches from the leaders of both sides to get the gist of what the war was about. A man calling himself Voldemort was trying to take over the world and the corrupt government wasn't putting up much of a resistance. It didn't look much different from the last war the magical population of Britain had gotten involved in.

Just as he thought that, Merlin doubled over with pain, falling to the ground again. "What's... happening..." he ground out.

The ghostly man tried to smile encouragingly, but it ended up as more of an introspective frown.

Merlin couldn't gather the energy to do more than glare at his father for the lack of answers.

The pain peaked and he must have blacked out, but when he opened his eyes again, it had all faded to a dull ache. He dragged himself over to the crystal and the image of a red-haired woman holding a black-haired baby. Merlin was more than confused and completely exhausted. Without another thought about what this all might mean, the ancient man fell to the ground once more. He didn't arise again until morning.

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_Please review to let me know what you think!_

_Thanks for reading!_

_-MP_


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